The Phantom of the Middle School
by I am the Angel of Music
Summary: 2004based, modern day, EC if you want to call it that. Kind of soapish, but R&R because every minute you don't, I watch Buquet get killed again. Think of Buquet. EPILOGUE POSTED AND...DONE!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: HEE HEE HEE here it is! My second posted fic. It started out as a story for my LA class, and now that school THE DREADED WORD! is over, I am posting it. Before we begin, here is the scoop. E/C, with 2 Christines! How can that happen? You'll see. 2004-movie-based. Also based on real life. That is, the characters are. Names have been changed. Disclaimer: Don't own anything that ALW and GL own, but I'm saving up! Many thanks go out to my wonderful updater, lilhobbitsparrow. U ROCK GURL! Please R&R because I said please!

**THE PHANTOM OF THE MIDDLE SCHOOL**

(Written with inspiration from the Angel of Music!)

**Chapter 1—Angel of Music**

"_Christine, Christine_!"

"Ari, stop scaring me!"

"_Why so nervous, Mademoiselle_?"

"If I call you Erik, will you stop?"

"_The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind_!"

This would be a normal conversation between two best friends at Ely Middle School. Stella Dubois and Ari Cera were wonderful students there, but they were both terribly obsessed with The Phantom of the Opera. Often, Ari would pretend to be Erik, the Phantom, and Stella would take the role of Christine. They would, however, on account of their gossip-infected schoolmates, desperately avoid romantic scenes. Mostly, Ari just loved to scare Stella—as above.

Algebra was their first class of the day. The classroom had no windows, and it was always uncomfortably warm. One could say that it was the longest period of the day. Stella was fascinated by the tricks that Mr. Marten taught them while Ari, who sat next to her, would let her mind wander.

"Ari, did you get the answer to problem number ten?" Stella asked one day, glancing up at her friend.

Ari started out of her reverie. "What?"

"Number ten," repeated Stella.

"Oh, yeah, take a look," Ari said, pushing her paper toward Stella.

Emma, another long-time friend of the girls, turned around with an exasperated look on her face. "How are you guys on number ten when I'm still on number two?"

Ari looked over at Emma's work. "Because you can't draw straight lines, stupid!" she said.

Stella got up and went to Mr. Marten's desk, where there was a cup full of orange and pink rulers. She grabbed one and over to Emma's desk. "Here's a ruler. Use it."

"Stop making fun of me!" whined Emma.

As Stella sat down, Ari shook her head at her. "Pitiful Christine."

Stella gave her standard reply. "Pitiless Erik."

i

The day went by with the two of them playing their favorite characters. When lunch came, Ari, Stella, and Kara, another of their friends, carried their lunches down to the guidance counselor's office to get away from the rowdy cafeteria. In lunch group, as it was called, they could not spend five minutes without talking about Phantom. Today, the topic of conversation was the latest movie, and the fact that it was coming to stores the next week.

Ari took from her pile of books a dark red folder. She had drawn a mask and a rose on the front, and scribbled lyrics around them. One side of the folder was filled with pages of lyrics from the musical and movie. On the other side, at least thirty pictures were assembled. Ari looked swiftly through them and found her favorite picture—the Phantom, alone in his lair, holding a rose. She tapped it excitedly before slamming it down on the table before her. She took one of the many pillows from the couch she was sitting on and began to squeeze it. Kara laughed.

"Let me guess," she said. "Gerard Butler?"

"Who else?" Ari replied, the pillow covering the bottom half of her face as she stared at the picture hungrily. The guidance counselor, Mrs. Disson, turned to see them. She raised her eyebrows at the look on Ari's face.

"What's the matter with her?" she asked. All three eighth graders pointed at the photo on the table. She nodded in understanding. "Ah…so, how was your trip to Spain, Kara?" she said, trying to change the subject.

She and Kara went into a long discussion about Kara's trip to Spain. Ari was still frozen beneath the pillows, still staring at the picture. Stella began to think of other things, her eyes going glassy.

Then, out of nowhere, she heard someone singing. No one visible was singing, but the voice was there. As she got up to throw her trash away, she checked the hall and found no one in it.

"What's wrong, Stella?" Mrs. Disson asked.

"Do you hear someone singing?" she said, turning back.

"I do, yeah," said Ari. "Where's that coming from?

"I don't hear anything," said Kara, and Mrs. Disson agreed with her. "Are you guys sure?"

"Listen a second—don't you hear it?"

"_Wandering girls, so lost, so helpless, yearning for my guidance_!"

The disembodied voice was plain to Ari and Stella. Without thinking, they both replied to it.

"_Angel or spirit, friend or phantom, who is it there, staring_?"

"Okay, now you two are really scaring me!" laughed Mrs. Disson. "Cut it out!"

Ari and Stella looked disappointedly at each other as the voice faded away. Kara tried once more to change the subject by grabbing Ari's folder and hunting down the picture of Patrick Wilson as Raoul. She leapt up and bounced around and shrieking, "It's Patrick! It's Patrick! It's Patrick!" incessantly.

Ignoring her, Ari murmured to Stella, "What if we come to school tomorrow and find red roses with black ribbons on them in our lockers?"

Stella laughed hollowly. "Then I would be freaking out!"

"I always have my rose," remarked Ari mischievously. So Stella threw a pillow at her.

i

His name was Erik. Few knew that, however, for he lived nearly a hundred feet underground. He wore a white porcelain mask over half of his face, and preferred black clothing—usually a black suit jacket and pants with a blousy white shirt, and he'd throw his black cape around his shoulders for effect. Neither heat nor cold ever seemed to bother him, and he never sickened. He delighted in being so far from the garish technology that was invading the school building that stood above his lair, and normally stayed belowground as much as possible.

Lately, however, he had taken interest in the talents of two girls who attended the school—young Stella, the artist, and young Ari, the actress. Both were talented musicians as well as writers—all qualities Erik was partial to, especially the music.

Erik worshipped music. Even now, he sat at his organ, although he was not playing. He had two long-stemmed, deep scarlet roses in his hand, and he was twining a black ribbon around each of them. He'd continued to listen to the girls' conversation after he'd stopped singing to them, and decided that theirs was a good idea. It was very early in the morning, long before anyone arrived at the school, but not so early that his flowers would wilt before they opened their lockers.

He privately laughed at himself. He knew he was eager to teach these young women. He could see, could hear their aspiring talent when they sang together. His hands paused in their motions as he thought about their obsession—The Phantom of the Opera. He shook his head—what a character Hollywood had turned the Phantom into! As he finished the second bow, he realized that the whole idea of the roses was from the latest movie. A movie—think of it!

Soon, he was swathed in his long cape and deftly spinning the dial of Stella's lock. The metal door opened, and he found himself staring at what he thought was a mirror, except for the fact that it was not moving. It was a picture of the Phantom played by Gerard Butler. He found a similar image in Ari's locker. He laughed softly—how little they knew!—and left the roses carefully perched atop the lonely textbooks. He sang softly to himself.

"_Seal my fate tonight…_"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you, reviewers, as few as you are!

RaeRobRocks--Thanks! And, er, if you read my first AN, the girls ARE real...but sorry to tell you, their mysterious haunt is not. As far as I know. glances around nervously. And one of them is me, just so you know, so you want to hang out with me! YAY!

Christine4Ever86--I don't speak much French, but MERCI!

Marykate65--Much appreciated...although you didn't REALLY need to send an apology paragraph...

Waiting for 3 reviews before I post again...and don't forget my other story!

**Chapter 2—The Phantom of the Opera**

When Ari opened her locker the next morning, she dropped her things in shock. Her hand shaking, she drew out the perfect rose, and heard her name behind her. She turned to see Stella, holding an identical flower. Both were tied with black velvet ribbons.

"Did you…" Stella said dazedly.

"I have no idea—what the…?" Ari replied, just as confused. The bell rang then, and Ari placed the rose carefully back in her locker before gathering her things to go to algebra.

i

They stayed together all day, almost out of fright. They returned to the school that night for a chorus concert that Ari was in and Stella wanted to attend. After the concert, Stella realized that she had forgotten something in her locker. Ari followed her. It was very late, and they were tired. Instead of going back the way they came, Stella suggested they take the shortcut through the basement stairs. The instant the door shut behind them, they heard that bodiless voice again.

"_I am your Angel of Music! Come to your Angel of Music!_"

Their things fell from their arms. They could tell that the voice seemed to be coming from the wall beneath the stairs. They moved toward it, their voices combined and trembling.

"_Angel, we hear you! Speak, we listen!_

_Stay by our sides, guide us!_

_Angel, our souls were weak, forgive us!_

_Enter at last, master!_"

And the Angel of Music replied.

"_Flattering girls, you shall know me, see why in shadow I hide!_

_Walk in my voice's direction—I am here, inside!_"

A hidden panel in the wall slid open, and there stood a living, breathing, singing mirror of the Phantom of the Opera. Their legs carried them to him, and he held out black-gloved hands.

"_Angel of Music, guide and guardian, grant to us your glory!_

_Angel of Music, hide no longer! Come to us, strange Angel!_"

He beckoned gently, his voice tantalizing.

"_I am your Angel of Music! Come to your Angel of Music!_

_I am your Angel of Music! Come to your Angel of Music!_"

i

"_In sleep he sang to us, in dreams he came,_

_That voice which calls to us and speaks our names._"

The song left Ari and Stella's throats automatically. They each held one of his hands, and he led them down and down, farther below the earth than they knew someone could survive. The three passed through dark corridors, and when it was his turn to sing, his voice echoed, entrancing.

"_Sing once again, my girls, your strange duet!_

_My power over you grows stronger yet!_"

They emerged from the tunnels to an underground lake. Just like in the movie, foggy mist drifted over it and there was a black, wooden gondola docked nearby. He went to it, pulling the girls gently behind him.

"_We are the mask you wear!_"

"_It's me they hear!_"

He helped Ari into the boat first, then Stella, before he got in himself and took up the pole. He pushed the boat along to the beat of the song.

"Sing, my Angels!" he said, commanding them to begin their complex vocalization. They seemed to sing without any will power, and they hit the highest note perfectly.

The boat approached a metal gate, which rose as they got nearer. They entered the Phantom's lair. It was lit by thousands of candles—some even emerged from the lake itself. The boat bumped gently into the rock shore, and he stepped out, removing his cape with a swirl. He helped the two girls exit after him, still humming a haunting melody. He stared into their eyes before he let go of their hands and walked away to climb a short staircase. He pulled back a huge cloth and revealed the workings of a pipe organ that took up nearly the whole wall. He sat gracefully and began to play passionately some music that had never before been heard by the living.

Stella drifted around, propelled by the music, discovering a collage of sketches and paintings of the two of them on another wall. Ari had followed him and stood near him, hovering. She stretched out a gentle hand to touch his shoulder, and his playing faded into nothing. He rose and turned to her, taking her arm and leading her over to a red curtain. With one hand on her back, he drew the curtain back, revealing two incredibly lifelike replicas of Ari and Stella.

Ari's legs gave out, and she collapsed into her Angel's arms. He smiled slightly and lifted her. He carried her to another room, where there were twin swan-shaped beds. He carefully placed the girl in one of them and pulled a silk tassel that released a black lace curtain. Casting one last look at her, he returned to the organ and his other protégée.

He found Stella standing by his music stand, reaching for the partial score of his latest work—"_Don Juan Returns._" She was just about to touch its edge when his black glove intervened, snatching it away. He turned away from her, keeping the music out of her view with his body.

"I am sorry, but it is unfinished. There is some music so terrible that it consumes all who approach it."

Stella was shaken—she opened her mouth without knowing why, but he covered it with his fingers.

"It's all right, I am here." He pulled his hand back and tucked the score away more safely.

"Angel?"

"Please, call me Erik."

"Erik—where is Ari?"

"She collapsed, so I put her to bed." He gestured toward the bedroom.

"That is impossible!" Stella said. She sidestepped Erik and ran in the direction he had indicated. She found her friend within, sleeping. Her appearance was as beautiful as if she had been dead, but Stella saw her chest move with her steady breath. She felt Erik's hands on her shoulders, and they moved down her arms until they rested on her hips. His touch made her shiver.

"It's so unlike her. Why did she collapse?" she asked.

"Here—I'll show you." Erik took her by the elbow and led her back out to see the imitations. She wasn't shocked, only surprised at how good the workmanship was.

"Did you make these yourself?"

"Yes, I did."

"You are a wonderful artist, Erik."

"My dear, your work puts mine to shame."

"You flatter me!"

"It is true. You are the wonderful artist, Stella."

Embarrassed, she moved away from him. She marveled at the way the place she stood in resembled the lair of the movie and musical. Was it possible? Could Erik be really the Phantom of the Opera? No, that would be impossible!

His hand touched the nape of her neck. "Sing for me, Angel," he whispered.

"I cannot sing!" she said desperately.

"You are wrong. You may be delicate on the outside, Stella, but you conceal emotions that some never dream of. You never let anyone else see your inner self, but when you are alone in your home, all of your anger and depression comes out into your song. When I hear you sing, you sound like an angel wishing for heaven. I weep when you sing."

"Why…wait a moment, how do you see me at home?"

"In the construction of your house, your father employed me as an architect and designer. I believe you know of the secret doors in your closet, the guest room, the attic, and your sister's room?"

"Yes."

"I made those for your mother—and you."

"You have been spying on me?"

"Not spying—observing." Stella shook her head in disbelief. Erik led her to the organ and ran one hand down her back before he began to play the song "_Learn to be Lonely._"

"Sing, my Angel of Music!" he said. She did—she sang with passion and loneliness, emotion and perfection far beyond her years. She could hardly begin to think where she got the strength to sing that way. It left her breathless. Erik sighed deeply when she had finished.

"The last time I heard someone sing that way was when Christine Daaé sang as Elissa in La Carlotta's place."

"I couldn't do it without your help," she replied. Somewhere, a clock chimed ten. Where had the time gone? Erik stood and put a hand on Stella's arm.

"You must go to sleep," he said and led her back into the bedroom. He drew her over to the second swan bed and she lowered into it without resistance. Her eyes closed.

"Goodnight, Erik," she sighed.

He brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Goodnight."

i

A/N: Ah, the wonders of the Music of the Night...and the wonders of a READER POLL! Here it is: Do you fair readers think that I should post a prequal and sequal to "The True Opera Ghost"? (Hopefully you will R&R it and THEN give me your opinion!) Merci beauceaup. sp?... :)


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks to all of the many of my reveiwers! glares, reaching for punjab lasso. THIS IS THE THANKS I GET! 4 REVIEWS! GRRRREEEEAAAARRRRGHHH! (Every chapter waits for at least 3 reviews before I post the next one! I like pretty reviews!)

Kate: What has problems with the movie? The story or you?

Disclamer: I do not own anything from the silent POTO film…yea.

**Chapter 3—Stranger Than You Dreamt It**

Ari awoke slowly the next morning. Why hadn't her alarm gone off? When her eyes opened, she remembered a little of why. She glanced around—Stella lay in a bed next to hers, still asleep. There was music coming from outside the room. Her feet touched the floor silently, and she sang softly as she emerged, looking around.

"_I remember there was mist, swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake._

_There were candles all around, and on the lake, there was a boat,_

_And in that boat there was a man…_"

She looked for the source of the music, and found Erik, sitting at his organ, gazing at her with something in his eyes she'd never seen in anyone. She moved toward him as he continued to play.

"_Who was that shape in the shadows? Whose is the face in the mask?_"

He remained seated even when she drew close enough to reach out and touch his face. His eyes closed, and she suddenly had to know. Her other hand went out and pried his mask off.

"_Damn you! You little prying Pandora! You little demon!_

_Is this what you wanted to see?_"

He stood abruptly, clutching his face, and moved away from her. She had remained still. He really could have looked worse, she thought, yet here he was, raving at her as though she had killed something dear to him. Which, she admitted, she had. She set the mask on a nearby table as he dropped to his knees, then followed him.

"_Stranger than you dreamt it!_

_Can you even dare to look or bear to think of me, this—_"

She put a finger to his lips, cutting him off. He looked at her, confused, and her hand moved to cup his disfigured cheek. She sang quietly.

"_This haunted face holds no horror for me now._

_It's in your soul that the true distortion lies._"

His eyes asked her desperately, "Why?" He allowed her to take his hands and pull him to his feet. Her own hands seemed to have minds of their own as they moved lightly up his arms until they met behind his neck. After a moment, he wrapped her in his embrace, burying his face in her hair. She leaned her head on his chest, which his open shirt left bare. She heard his heartbeat and her grip tightened. She wanted to hold him forever.

Suddenly he stiffened and drew away from her. She looked up, disappointed, and saw him staring over her shoulder. She turned, and there stood Stella at the door to the bedroom.

Erik immediately spun around and hunted out his mask. As he passed Ari, she heard him mutter something. Had he said, "_Curse you_"? She wasn't sure, but there were other things to worry about.

"Ari," said Stella, coming over to her friend and speaking softly. "What about our parents?"

Both of them looked fearfully at the newly masked Erik, who clapped a hand to his head. "Oh, God, I'd forgotten!" he said. "I'm such a fool!"

"What are we going to do?" asked Ari.

"Wait," said Erik slowly. "I think this may work out. I do not think you know that I was once personally acquainted with both of your mothers."

"What?" The girls were surprised.

"Yes," he continued. "Perhaps we can call them on my telephone."

"You have a telephone?" Ari said stupidly.

He looked at her kindly. "Of course." He noticed Stella rolling her eyes. "It's all right—even I forget that it is not 1870 anymore. Do not worry." He moved to show them his telephone, and Ari and Stella exchanged confused looks.

i

Not long later, the three were moving through an underground tunnel to a secluded place in the forest. It was not far from the school, but far enough that no one would see them. For the girls' disappearance had, of course, been discovered, and police and caution tape as well as news cameras surrounded the vacated building. They could just see it from their hiding place.

Ari sank to the earthen floor of the woods, shivering for a reason unbeknownst to her. Erik noticed this and sat next to her, putting an arm around her and drawing her close to him. Stella sat on his other side, and his other arm embraced her.

"Taking care of our daughters, Erik?"

The familiar voice surprised the three, who looked up to see Stella's mother, Christine, approaching them.

"Just like you did us," said Ari's mother, Meg, coming up behind her.

"Of course," replied Erik, smiling beneath his mask. "You were my girls, and now they are."

"I still cannot believe how long it has been," Christine remarked. "Were they as curious as we were?"

"More so," said Erik, pretending to glare at Ari, who blushed.

"As it is, Erik, I do not think that it is a good idea for you to be back in the school at the moment," Meg said, glancing over at the brick building. "Would you like to come with us to Christine's house—for tea, and a needed discussion?"

"I would be honored, Madame," Erik replied, rising and giving the girls his hands. "Let us hasten."

i

And hasten they did, over to Stella and Christine's lovely residence. They sat in one of the several parlors and drank herbal tea from china mugs. Erik regarded his two former students with a sparkle of humor in his eye.

"What are you laughing at?" Stella wanted to know.

"It has been a long time," Erik replied, not directly to her but to the room in general.

"Wait," said Ari, perplexed. "If you were their teacher when they were our age, then…"

"How old were you the last time you counted, Erik?"

Erik looked upward, thinking. "One hundred…sixty, I think."

The two young girls began to look very confused.

"How…?" said Stella, wonderingly.

The three elders looked around at each other. "One can never quite tell," said Erik, his voice very different. "Perhaps it was a blessing—or a curse."

"A curse?" inquired Ari and Stella together.

"Stella, we don't believe in curses," her mother reminded her gently, for the whole family was strictly Jehovah's Witnesses. Ari looked at Erik, pleading.

"Some other time," he assured her. She sighed and took another sip of tea.

"What about the police?" asked Stella.

"We have made your excuses," said Meg reassuringly. "They still want to examine the building—school's out all next week."

"Oh, darn, no school," said Ari. Erik laughed.

i

A/N: Ahem. Reviews. Please. And answer my poll that was posted last chapter. If you will. Or I may have to create a disaster beyond your imaginations. Hope you like it, love it or hate it let me know. Honestly, it's not that hard to hit that little button in the lower left hand of your window, then hit keys at random to form words. Then click the other little button that says "Submit." Then you will have a HAPPY authoress who does NOT grab her Punjab as soon as she sees you. grrrrr


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I got 4 count em! FOUR reviews for last chappie! U GUYS ROCK MY SOX!**

**Surrender: Why would I Punjab you? I enjoy your story and your reviews.**

**RaeRobRocks: pat on back Are you all right? Okay, good. But what about after I finish The True Opera Ghost?**

**ME: I do not know who Javert is, but why don't you write something about that?**

**Kchan88: Thank you for your continued support. You are the second person to comment on Stella and Ari being Christine and Meg's daughters. Thank you.**

**So far I have 2 votes for a prequal to "The True Opera Ghost". Read it and let me know, prequal or sequal first? Both are in progress, by the way.**

**Chapter 4—Forever**

The five of them sat in the parlor until suppertime, when Christine invited Erik to stay for a meal. He, however, graciously declined, saying that he had affairs to take care of in town.

"But you don't have a car," mused Ari.

"Well, how did they travel in 1870?" he countered.

"Horse and cart," said she.

"If they didn't have one?"

"Rode the horse."

"Okay, well, if you didn't have any mobile assistance whatever?"

"Couldn't go too far," came the good-humored reply. Erik glared in exasperation at his pupil.

"I shall walk—you little idiot," he said. "Besides, a car is one of my affairs to be seen to. Farewell for now, my dears."

It was odd for him to be outside. It was still early in the year, so it was getting to be dark and cold, but it was only 5:30, so the car dealership would not be closed. Erik hoped to God that there would be no problems with any of the people that he had to speak with. He really didn't want to draw attention to himself—a masked stranger showing up the day after two teenaged girls were snatched from their school? Ludicrous. Even if he had done it—that was the point. Erik was no good at lying under pressure, never mind under oath, for God's sake.

"Ludicrous," he repeated out loud. "Simply ludicrous."

i

Several days later, Ari was walking down her long driveway for no particular reason, singing softly to herself.

"_Shamed into solitude, shunned by the multitude,_

_I learned to listen! In the dark, my heart heard music!_"

She heard a car coming, and stepped off the narrow road to let it pass. She'd never seen this car before—it was a black Mercedes, and the license plate read, PHANTOM. She grinned as the car slowed. She knew who it was.

The driver's window slowly rolled down, and she said, "Hello, Erik."

"Good afternoon, my dear," he replied, all suavity.

"It's even better now," she said, then smirked, "to a little idiot."

That got him to laugh. "Come and take a drive with me," he offered, indicating the seat beside him.

"I'd have to ask my mom," she said, "but I would love to."

Since the driveway was roughly a quarter of a mile long, he gave her a ride back to her house, where she got permission to go for a ride.

"You may want to take the back roads," Meg cautioned them. "The news is already having a field day."

"Don't worry," Erik assured her. "We shall be as careful as reindeer crossing thin ice."

"Reindeer don't cross thin ice—they're smarter than that," Ari broke in, beaming devilishly at Erik.

"I suppose I deserved that," he said, eyes twinkling.

i

They drove around the forested area of the town, far from the busy streets of the center. While they drove, Erik and Ari talked.

"So, you wanted to know about me," he said rather abruptly. She looked a little startled, but nodded. She wanted to hear everything. "I know that you are familiar with Phantom of the Opera," he began, and she laughed.

"That's an understatement," she remarked.

"Do you want me to tell the story or not?"

"Huzzah, story time!"

"Fine, I won't tell it."

"Tell it!"

"Okay." Ari's face twisted in amusement, but she let him continue the story. "You are completely and utterly obsessed with Phantom of the Opera. That is not to question. You have, no doubt, noticed certain similarities between Erik, the Phantom, and I? Even, perhaps, between yourself and Christine?"

"And Stella," she reminded him subtly.

"Yes, yes…of course. Remember when I told you I was a hundred and sixty?"

"Wait—were you…him, then?" Ari thought to be confused, but somehow the realization did not surprise her.

"He and I are one and the same," Erik affirmed.

"How?" She was dying to know.

"I'm not exactly sure," he said, almost to himself. "It was when I was about twenty-five. Christine Daaé had left me, and the worthy Madame Giry came to see me. I told her, surely, that I was going to die. 'Erik,' she said, 'there is one possibility—one way things can be different. You know that I am part gypsy…'"

"She was?" interrupted Ari.

"Yes. Now, the entire tale is obviously longer than you can sit through—"

"Thanks very much."

"—so I will summarize. She did something to me—I don't know what—but it killed her. And now, I live forever."

"Wow," said Ari, entranced by the profundity of the statement. "It's like _Tuck Everlasting_."

"I've read that," Erik remarked.

Suddenly, she noticed that he was driving in a more purposeful direction. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"You will see," he replied impishly. She sighed. She would let him have his secret if it made him happy. Soon, he turned down a smaller, winding driveway. Slyly, he sang to her.

"_Close your eyes and let music set you free!_

_Only then can you belong to me!_"

Shaking her head at him, she obeyed. She felt the car pull to a stop, and a moment later, Erik opened her door. He kept telling her to keep her eyes shut as he led her by the hand up a few stairs and into a building.

"Okay, you can open your eyes." So she did.

The scene that she saw made her gasp. One side of the room was almost entirely covered in an organ's pipes. The rest of the room was draped in red and black velvet, and covered in the decorations from his old home. However, the lack of mist from the lake and the presence of two large, open windows changed the countenance of everything to create a much cheerier air. Sheet music still covered tables around the area, making her smile. He was still the same Phantom he'd always been.

"How do you like it?"

She turned to look at him. "This is all yours?"

"Yes," he said. "Forever."

"It's brilliant," she breathed, glancing around once more.

A smile crept onto his face. "Would you like to see the rest?"

"I would love to."

He caught her hand and kissed it graciously. "Follow me."

It was not a very large house, but it had, besides the music room, a parlor, kitchen, dining room, two bathrooms, and three bedrooms. One, which was belowground, was Erik's. The other two, he explained, were for guests.

"I had, mainly, the two of you in mind, of course," he said, which made Ari blush slightly. He showed her Stella's room first.

It was furnished with a color scheme of white, gold, and pink. Pretty, delicate flowers adorned the wallpaper and rested in vases on the dresser and nightstand. On the vanity was a small diorama of _Il Muto_. Ari thought it would suit her friend perfectly.

She was astounded when Erik opened the door to her room. The colors here were black and scarlet, with mere touches of white. The flowers were blood-red roses, Ari's favorite kind. The diorama on the vanity was of "_The Point of No Return,_" from Erik's own _Don Juan Triumphant_ She turned to Erik, where he was leaning against the doorframe, the cocky grin still apparent.

"I love it," was all she could say.

"I thought, while I was designing, that Stella would like something simpler and delicate, as she shows herself to be. You, however, have a deep passion within you that cries out romance. You do not hide your inner emotions. You are much more intense than she is, my dear, and I believe that this room reflects that. Should you ever wish to spend the night, it is yours."

"Thank you," she said almost shyly, reaching out to touch his face, "for everything."

He covered her hand with his, and she drew into him gracefully. He caressed her back with his fingertips, his lips just brushing her hair. God, how she reminded him of Christine.

Neither of them saw the sunlight suddenly go. Neither was prepared for the booming clap of thunder that suddenly sounded—_crash_! Ari jerked back and toppled, and Erik, whose grip had tightened, fell with her, landing in a heap. An instant later, everything went black.

Erik muttered a curse under his breath. "The power's gone out!" He had to speak loudly over the sudden, hammering sound of rain and a fresh clap of thunder.

A streak of lightning illuminated the room, and for the barest moment, they saw each other's faces, and they knew that there was something worse than a storm lingering on the horizon. But the light disappeared, and Erik pushed himself away from Ari to his feet.

"I'm going to get some candles," he said. Ari scrambled to a standing position and groped in the darkness for his hand. She found it and clutched it tightly.

"Please, don't leave me!" she said. His other hand went to her face.

"Of course not."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5—Seal My Fate**

Luckily enough, Erik's phone still worked. The roads would be horrendous, and they could hardly see past the windowpane, so they decided that there was hardly any choice but for Ari to stay. They called Meg, who simply warned them to stay safe.

Erik lit fifteen or so candles in the music room, casting a flickering glow that was reminiscent of the way it used to be. Ari curled up on the couch, listening to the rolling thunder and drumming rain outside, and to Erik humming softly to himself. She wasn't exactly scared, but the combination of light and shadow was thrilling. When he finished with the candles, Erik came over and sank elegantly down next to her.

She leaned her head on his chest, feeling his hand resting on her back. The fingers of his other hand trailed across her cheekbone, and she unthinkingly sang.

"_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime!_

_Say the word, and I will follow you!_

_Share each day with me, each night, each morning!_"

She did not know if she was prepared for what his voice sang next.

"_Say you love me!_"

Breathlessly, she replied, "_You know I do!_"

Together, turning to look at each other, they sang.

"_Love me, that's all I ask of you!_"

Inclining his head, he touched his lips gently to hers. She was surprised and delighted for a moment, but then her eyes opened wide and she pulled back.

"Erik, this is insane!" Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Stella…she…it would tear her apart!"

"Stella does not need to know," he replied gently, bringing her face closer to his with his hand. As she was about to protest, his lips fell in place of her words. She trembled with indecision as his mouth covered hers, eating away at her willpower. She wanted to, and felt herself almost, give in. Almost...

She drew reluctantly away. "I can't. I want to, but…I'm sorry, Erik."

The look on his face was unreadable. "I understand," he said, although his voice was slightly constrained. In a sudden movement, he arose and went to the window. She heard him softly singing.

"_Shamed into solitude, shunned by the multitude,_

_I learned to listen! In the dark, my heart heard music!_

_I longed to teach the world, rise up and reach the world,_

_No one would listen. I alone could hear the music…_"

"Erik…"

"It's all right, Christine."

"What?"

"I mean, Ari. Sorry."

She rose and went to him, putting a hand on his arm. "Why did you call me Christine?"

He sighed, his hands hanging limply at his sides. "I am reminded of her—by you."

She could see that he was bitterly let down, but she could not bring herself to forget her best friend so harshly.

"Play some of your _Don Juan_," she said. "It will make you feel better."

His mouth twitched slightly. "You know me better than I do." He touched her hand before he went and sat at the organ.

"_Here the sire may serve the dam, here the master takes his meat!_

_Here the sacrificial lamb utters one despairing bleat!_"

She joined him in the words and sang the scene through to nearly the end.

"_We've passed the point of no—_" He broke off suddenly.

"Erik? What is it?"

"The ending," he replied shortly, and gave a great crash on the organ before leaping up and storming out of the room. Ari fell back onto the couch, very much disturbed.

i

She found a photo album lying on a table. She opened it, and stared at herself. It was a photo taken of her in sixth grade, at a beach party with her friends. The next picture was of Stella, the time she'd been in a play about Moses. On and on the pictures of the two girls went, until they were suddenly replaced by black-and-white stills—old pictures, probably from the early years of the camera.

The first picture was of the Paris Opera, which had been partially destroyed somehow, and was being rebuilt. Ari remembered the fire that the falling of the chandelier had caused. More pictures of the House followed, showing its reconstruction. A few showed a beautiful young couple, always looking in a different direction so you could not see their faces, There was even one photo of Erik himself, standing next to a broken mirror.

The final section of the album was filled with sketches and drawings—opera scenes, interior decoration, and portraits. Most of these were of Ari and Stella, often drawn in the embrace of the Phantom. There was even one sketch that reminded Ari of the day they'd escaped from the depths of the school—Erik stood between her and her friend, an arm around each of them. He wore no mask—instead, the right side of his face was as handsome and tempting as the left side was.

The last drawing intrigued her. Its edges had been burned, and it had been torn and repaired, but it could still be clearly made out. Ari thought she knew the teenaged girl Erik had drawn, with her masses of dark brown curls, her delicate face shape, and her wide eyes.

She was still staring at that picture when its artist returned. He held two mugs and handed her one before sitting on the other end of the couch. She took it—it was tea, sweetened and steaming. She sipped it before she asked him, "Is this Christine?"

He glanced over his own cup at the photo album. "Yes," he said. "She was sixteen."

"These are all very good, Ari remarked softly. "The sketches, I mean."

"You're too kind," he returned, oddly formal.

She raised her eyes and tilted her head, regarding him. "Why did you come here?"

He seemed startled by the question. "I'm not quite sure," came the answer. "I followed my heart."

"How romantic of you."

"I know."

His reliable clock chimed ten. Ari finished the last of her tea and closed the photo album. Erik stood and took up a candle in his hand.

"I'll lead you back to your room so you can see where you are going," he said, extending his free hand to her. "I'll leave you the light as well."

"Thank you," said Ari, putting her hand in his.

They passed through the dark corridor, and Ari smiled, remembering her favorite movie. She unknowingly hummed the "_Overture_", and Erik looked back at her with a wry smile.

When they reached Ari's room, Erik set the candle in a holder on a table. Ari watched him as he turned back to her.

"You will find nightclothes in that drawer," he said, pointing. Was he blushing a little? It was hard to tell in the flickering light. He took both of her hands and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Goodnight, _mon ange_. I am here if you need me."

i

"_Ari, Ari!_"

His voice called to her gently, bringing her out of the depths of sleep. She opened her eyes and saw him standing above her, stroking her hair with the tips of his fingers. She smiled up at him—he looked so handsome in his casual white blouse and black pants, and the unmasked side of his face was soft and loving. He returned her smile warmly and said, "Good morning, my dear."

"Good morning," she replied, reaching up to put a hand on his arm.

"I have made you breakfast, when you want it, and then I will drive you home."

"Okay."

"Get dressed and come into the dining room when you are ready." His hand grazed her cheek before he left.

She rose and caught sight of a clock—it was already 9:00. Quickly dressing, she followed the smell of pancakes to the dining room. As she sat in one of the high-backed chairs, another door opened and Erik entered. He set a steaming plate of eggs and pancakes before her, and stood against one wall, watching her eat. He made her nervous.

"Why don't you eat something, Erik?" she asked him.

His eyebrow lifted slightly. "I hardly eat at all."

"But you must sit with me," she said, setting down her fork. "I insist—please have something."

He chuckled slightly and sat across from her. "The look of worry on your face is enough to convince me. Of course, I would do anything for you."

She blushed and looked down at her plate. "You are a good cook, Erik."

"Thank you." He took a bite of an apple, still watching her. "What are you really thinking about?"

She looked up again, surprised that he knew. "Stella," she said. "Are you going to go see her?"

He sighed and nodded. After I bring you home. Perhaps you should call her while I'm on my way."

"Okay, Erik, I'll tell her."

i

They sang together as they rode—Erik's idea. When they pulled into her driveway, Erik took Ari's hand and pressed it to his lips. Coyly, she let him, her eyes never leaving his face. "Erik, you're a scoundrel."

"Perhaps," he said. She giggled and drew away from him.

"I'll see you later, Erik."

"_Au revoir._"

She watched him pull away, feeling slightly odd, before she turned and ran up the stairs. She waved to her mother and grabbed the phone off the hook. She swiftly dialed Stella's number.

"Hi, Stella?"

"This is she."

"It's Ari. I have to talk to you…"

She briefly described what had happened, cringing when she talked about Erik's bold kiss. Stella was silent throughout the explanation.

"…and he's coming over to talk to you about it," she concluded and stopped uncertainly.

"Well, Ari, I understand," came Stella's voice, sounding slightly saddened. "Thank you for thinking of me."

"Are you all right, Stella?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for telling me. I have to study now. Goodbye."

"Bye…"

Stella hung up almost before Ari had finished her word. Ari put the phone down, worried about what had just happened.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: All right, folks, prepare yourselves. deep breath**

**I HATE YOU ALL!**

**Well, not ALL of you. Just the ones that DON'T REVIEW!**

**Dod gammit, folks! Ye've only got this and the epilogue to go, now REVIEW OR ELSE!**

**Bulletin: I have OFFICIALLY FLAMED EVERY PERSON who READS and does not REVIEW!**

**-Erik: She's mad, folks. Review, or else Hell freezes over and Satan gives free sleigh rides. (Got that from Urkle, sorry.)-**

**NOW!**

**Chapter 6—Shamed Into Solitude**

Stella was typing her comments for her religious meeting when a shadow crept up behind her. Thinking it was her annoying sister, she said, "Alicia, I can't play with you right now. I'm studying."

"Stella," a familiar voice whispered in her ear. Stella turned and saw Erik, dressed dramatically with his cape thrown over his shoulders.

"Oh, Ari called saying that you would come," she said airily and turned back to her work.

She felt his hand at the base of her neck. "I came to talk to you about…"

"…last night," she finished.

Erik was taken aback. "How did you know?"

"I called Meg to see if Ari wanted to come over, and she said that she had gone with you. When the storm came, I knew that wherever you were, you would be trapped."

"Then how did you get these suspicions about us?"

"First of all, I saw you and Ari when she took off your mask, and—er— everything that followed." She stood up and turned toward him, her voice bordering on sarcasm. "Then, when you were on your way, Ari called and told me everything. Including the ever-so-passionate kiss."

Suddenly, Erik seized Stella and pulled her to him, pressing his lips down on hers. She was shocked and didn't pull away immediately, for she had never been kissed before. Yet there was something wrong—the kiss seemed almost forced, as though he were annoyed at her and had to shut her up. She knew why, and broke away.

"Erik, let me finish. Ari talked about the rooms you built for us—how my room is so delicate and hers so wild. I can tell you love me, Erik, but it is a very casual love, like a friend more than anything. I can also see that you love Ari, but you are completely open with her, and passionate. You're always happy when you're around her, and almost gloomy with me. You seem to always be missing her when she is not here. Now, I look at her, her personality and characteristics, and I look at you. You're made for one another, Erik. Please, forget about me—give your attention to Ari. She needs you more than I do."

"Stella…"

"Erik, please!" Stella looked him directly in the eyes, sad to be losing him, but knowing it was right. "Take care of her."

"I will never forget you, Angel," he breathed.

"Never."

i

Ari got out of her mom's car. She was a little early, but she loved to be early for Erik's lessons. She waved as her mom drove away, and as she was turning around to go inside, another car pulled in the driveway. She was confused, for it was Stella. She waited until her friend approached her before she asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I have a lesson," Stella replied. "What about you?"

"Same here. We haven't had a double lesson since…wait, have we ever had a double lesson?"

"All right, what's Erik up to?"

"Come inside, girls," came his voice from the door. They turned and saw him standing there, a half-guilty look on his face. "I'll explain." Trading mystified glances, the girls obeyed.

Once they were in the music room, Erik sat on his organ bench, facing them. Suddenly, Stella knew why he wanted them there, together, with him. He looked at her, and she nodded.

"I hate to be the argument between the two of you," he began, "but Stella has made a decision that I want to check with you, Ari."

"What?" Ari asked, still confused.

"Ari, now I am here with you—no second thoughts, I've decided. You and Erik were meant to be together."

The older girl was surprised. "What are you saying?"

"'If you love someone, set them free,'" Stella quoted. "I love Erik, and I love you as a friend as well, so I am setting both of you free by giving you to each other."

Ari was stunned. She looked at Erik, thinking that he must have had something to do with this, but he shook his head at her.

"She did it alone," said he. Ari turned to Stella and suddenly hugged her.

"You have no idea how much this means to me," she whispered, her throat tight.

"I can see how much it means," Stella replied, embracing her friend fiercely. "He needs you, Ari."

Ari turned out of their friendly embrace and into a more ardent one with Erik. He swept her up in his arms and kissed her. She took his mask away gently, and he did not protest. She felt like Christine Daaé, and she loved it.

After a moment, Erik pulled back with a strangled laugh. He released her and turned to Stella. He put his hands on her cheeks and kissed her forehead, smiling at her. He quoted a line from Edgar Allen Poe's "_A Dream Within a Dream._"

"_Take this kiss upon the brow!_

_And, in parting from you now,_

_Thus much let me avow._"

His fingers traced her cheekbone. "Thank you, Stella, for everything." He went back to the organ and said, "Shall we begin our lesson?"

The two friends grinned at each other, and Stella made a request.

"Erik, I told you that I am going away soon. I do not think that we will all be together again for quite some time, so can we sing '_Think of Me_'?" He nodded and began to play, and they sang the glorious harmonies that he had written.

"_Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye!_

_Remember me, once in a while; please promise me you'll try…_"


	7. Epilogue

**A/N: I'M ADDICTED TO REVIEWS!**

**Thank you SO much for not COMPLETELY ignoring my last authoress's note!**

**Okay, this is the epilogue cries Yes, it's over. Ten years later...a few things are explained. Or, at least, one thing is explained.**

**Let me, finally, get something straight for the readers: if you didn't notice the very first chapter's note, this originally started out as a story for my english class last year, starring my friend and I in our junior high school. I later changed the names to post it. Ari is me. Stella is my friend. She co-authored it, and SHE wrote the part where Ari gets Erik. NOT ME. I'm not THAT selfish, but my friend is the sweetest person in the whole world and I love her.**

**ON WITH THE EPILOGUE!**

**Epilogue—Ten Years Later**

"Ari, go, it's your turn!" Erik urged her. They stood backstage of the Metropolitan Opera in New York, and it was time for the curtain call of the play that Erik and Ari had just starred in—The Phantom of the Opera. Ari strolled out to center stage in her Christine costume and bowed deeply to the tumultuous applause. She smiled as she backed up, and Erik appeared, as dramatic as he could be, in his flowing black cape and stark white mask. He bowed graciously, then turned back to Ari. He took her by the hand and kissed her cheek, and they bowed together as planned. The entire cast joined hands for the final bow. The audience was on its feet, screaming and cheering as the curtain closed.

Erik swept his wife of five years into his arms after they had left the stage.

"They love you, Ari," he said and kissed her solidly.

"They love you, too," she replied, pushing him away teasingly. Just then, the director of the production came up to them.

"Erik, Ari, you brought the house down!" he said.

"Well, I would hope not," said Ari, and Erik shoved her playfully.

"I wanted to tell you, Drs. Stella C. Dubois and Raoul deCorren request an audience with you at once."

Ari turned to Erik excitedly. "Erik, it's Stella! She's here!"

They followed the director to a private lounge. In it stood the twenty-three-year-old version of their friend, with her new husband. Ari ran to embrace her.

"Dr. Stella C. Dubois-deCorren," she said, laughing aloud. "Think of it!"

Stella let her friend go and turned almost shyly to Erik. "Hello, Erik."

In his grandiose, gentlemanly manner, Erik took her offered hand and brushed it against his lips. "Hello again, Stella."

"We can't stay long," she said after introducing her husband, "but we had to tell you that you were absolutely brilliant. Both of you."

"You are too kind," Erik said.

"No—it's true. You really are the Angel of Music, Erik," she insisted.

"Many thanks, flattering child."

"Stella, darling, we must go," Raoul, her husband, said gently. She sighed and embraced both of her dear friends.

"Until we meet again," Ari said.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow," added Erik.

i

Instead of taking a taxi or bus, Erik and Ari walked back to their New York studio. At the corner of eighth and forty-second, an older woman approached them.

"Congratulations on your triumph tonight at the Opera—Erik."

Erik looked surprised. "Have we met?"

"Long ago," the woman said with her French accent. "Well over a hundred years ago."

"Madame Giry?"

"Yes, Erik. When I cast the spell on you, I did not die, as you thought. My gypsy spirit simply left my body, until now."

"Why now?" he asked.

"You have found your purpose," Madame Giry said. "It's time for you to move on."

"Wait—"

But before he could finish, the older woman gestured, and they were enveloped in a cloud of thick smoke. When it cleared, Madame Giry had gone, and Erik was falling. Ari caught him and held him against her until he stopped shaking.

"What just happened?" she asked him.

"I think, my dear," he said weakly, "that she has taken away my curse."

"It was not a curse after all, was it?"

He smiled and bent his head to kiss her. "It was not."

Ari suddenly realized what this meant. "So, are you now truly alive again?"

He exhaled and tilted her chin upward, touching her again with his lips.

"I am truly living again."

—O. G.

**bows Thank you, and GOOD NIGHT! Don't forget to check out my other stories! I LOVE YOU ALL (AS LONG AS YOU REVIEW)!**

**LONG LIVE ERIK!**


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